Strange Fellows
by Silawen
Summary: When Zaraki Kenpachi wants to take his midday nap, he finds his favourite spot taken by a fellow captain. After a short talk, he finds that they have more in common than he initially thought.


**Title:** Strange Fellows  
**Author:** **silawen** / Lalaith86  
**Fandom:** Bleach.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters: Hints of Zaraki Kenpachi/Ukitake Joushirou**   
**Word Count:** 1643  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach. Besides, owning it would be very creepy.  
**Summary:** ___No, both in body and soul, they are nothing alike._

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**Strange Fellows.**

There's not much Zaraki Kenpachi loves. Yes, he enjoys fighting, and some would say he dearly – and somewhat frightingly – loves his lieutenant, but there are far more things he dislikes instead. He dislikes cowards, those who would rather run than meet him head on, he dislikes liars, not strong enough to simply speak the truth, and he despises weaklings, for they do not strive hard enough to be strong.

One thing the captain moderately enjoys, however, is his afternoon nap. Under the arms of large trees, swaying green shading him from the sun, he can sleep undisturbed. Even Yachiru, an ardent believer in remaining as close to him as humanly possible, will leave him be once he closes his eyes.

Which is why he's making his way to a favoured spot of his, hidden behind bushes and underneath a white roof of petals. Granted, he would be the last person to understand its beauty – Yumichika would probably approve – but he can appreciate the way cool white keeps the blazing hot sun at bay.

Thudding steps take him closer, reiatsu flaring though he doesn't mean it to. It's hard to keep such power in check and his mind is already getting ready for a pleasant slumber, though that idea is disturbed when he finds someone else occupying his secret spot. Not so secret, then, and probably explained by the fact he found it following others in the first place. These days very few people dare use it, though, something about the air telling them the 11th Division's captain would rather they didn't and plans to make sure of it with drastic measures.

He pauses, scratching his head, as he takes in the thin form of one of his fellow captains. Of all people in Soul Society, the man leaning heavily against a tree in front of him would probably be considered the man farthest away from who the brutal man intends to be. Ukitake Juushirou, beloved captain of the 13th, is everything Zaraki Kenpachi is not, nor ever wants to be.

Fair strands of white, rivaling the splendor of the tree reaching out to the sky, stand out stark against pale skin. A gentle face, smooth and slightly feminine, is not touched by ragged scars. He knows that, underneath a perfectly pressed haori, not only a gentle heart lies, but also a frail and sickly body. Unblemished, aside from the illness that torments it so very often, but weak.

No, both in body and soul, they are nothing alike.

"Good afternoon, Zaraki-taichou," the white-haired man, silver in the light streaming through dancing leaves, murmurs quietly. As always, he's utterly respectful and courteous, though his eyes look tired and the forced smile betrays discomfort. Even the loud captain of the 11th knows why.

"Ukitake," he grunts in reply, moving closer. Usually he would have done something to remove whoever was occupying the spot he deems his, but knows he cannot do so now. Even amongst toughened warriors, there are rules of conduct, and he knows Ukitake Juushirou, though weak, deserves some respect at least.

"I did not picture you the type for an afternoon stroll, Kenpachi. Certainly not without Yachiru-fukutaichou by your side."

Kenpachi grins, aware Ukitake doesn't get out enough to know he has a habit of taking naps this time of day. Stuck in his room, the sickly captain probably has no idea what happens with the stronger members of Soul Society.

"I don't do strolls, I always get lost," he replies, causing the other man to smile. The large warrior sits down finally, noticing how wet the grass still is underneath the tree. The sun has yet to dry the patches they are sitting on, and the chill is noticeable even for him.

He frowns. "You should not be out here. I don't want ya dyin' on me, the wailing and sobbing would be annoying as fuck."

Tired eyes regard him, dark as shadows splay over his face. The sun breaks through momentarily, and brown stares back at him. Kenpachi turns his head.

"I'm just spending some time outside. It's such a wonderful day," Ukitake answers, head resting against rough bark again. Not just his eyes look tired and Kenpachi is quickly becoming bored with the weak person in front of him.

"Eh, it brings the bugs out. They ain't getting' near me, but the buzzing shit gets on my nerves."

A soft laugh, again irritating. Everything about the man is soft, calm, weak, even his reiatsu is merely glowing. Stroking his face in warm waves, not spiking in angry bouts of frustrated anger like a warrior should. It makes him want to touch out and shake the man, infuse some fire in those dull eyes, perhaps shake him so hard there's red to his hollow cheeks.

"Ya need a good fight," he says, speaking up because Ukitake doesn't. Crossing his arms, he's already contemplating how to goad the man into doing just that. Fighting him would provide more amusement than his entire squad has ever managed to. Zaraki Kenpachi is no fool, though few would ever dare say that, and he knows how strong the frail man can really be. It would be a challenge, to as much as touch the man, but it would be worth it. Smiling slyly, the thought of charging at the captain, sword raised, brings a shine to his eyes.

"No one has ever told me that the cure to illness is getting hurt worse, Kenpachi-san. Unohana-tacihou would not be pleased."

The larger man snorts. "Unohana-san is not someone ya want to be takin' after. She keeps refusin' to fight me."

"And that defines everything, doesn't it, Zaraki-taichou?" Ukitake asks, a smile tugging at his lips. He looks amused, like he's dealing with a child that simply doesn't understand the ways of the world. Kenoachi is both annoyed and intrigued by it. Very few people would ever dare treat him that way, and it feels like a challenge.

"I don't respect the weak."

"Am I weak, then, Zaraki-san?"

It's hard to answer that question. Not much of a thinker, even on a good day, Kenpachi frowns. Two thoughts clash, like zanpaktou drawing blood, as he attempts to decide whether or not physical weakness outranks inner strength. Luckily, Ukitake saves him the trouble.

"We are opposites, you and I, yet at the same time we have something in common."

"What's that?" Kenpachi asks, the dim sound of bells ringing in his ear. Like a chime, warning him of something. He's not sure what it is.

"Pride."

Both are silent, acknowledging what Ukitake has just said. Kenpachi has heard the story, about the 13th and its unfortunate Lieutenant, and had been one of the few taking the man's side. There is only honour in death. Life is nothing but an endless, meaningless road, leading to that inevitable final breath. If not pride, then what is there to die for? At that time, he'd felt closer to Ukitake than he'd ever considered possible.

There is respect then, for the man sitting in front of him. A smidgen of understanding, of being alike, even though they are so different. Ukitake is closer to his subordinates than Zaraki will ever be, and the burly man knows that the sacrifice was thus even greater.

Spluttered coughing breaks his train of thought, banishing images of the past from his mind. Blood, something Kenpachi usually relishes in, stains the soft grass before them. Doubled over, Ukitake's entire body shakes with every breath.

He's seen this before, but it has been on the battlefield. Bodies, broken, weapons lying discarded, last breaths ones of suffering. He finishes it for them, for his ways are not like those too weak to end what they've started. The sight before him is wrong, doesn't belong with the pretty captain, so Kenpachi stands up.

One quick motion, and he's slung the feather-light body over his shoulder. Yachuri and her candy weigh about the same. The other man coughs violently, the sudden movement shocking, but Kenpachi holds on tighter.

"Kenpachi, put me down!" Ukitake wheezes, but the larger man doesn't appear to take notice.

"I do not want you getting' worse, Ukitake, I intend to fight you soon. It's been too long." The warrior grins.

"I will not fight you!"

"Ah, then perhaps me helpin' ya will cause that bastard Kyouraku to finally give in. The coward keeps refusin'. It's been so dull since the ryoka left."

"Zaraki! Put me down!"

"No, this is not worth dyin' over. You deserve a warrior's death, not slinkin' away with your zanpaktou untouched. This sickness is a coward, and I don't suffer cowards," Zaraki growls, and there is no reply.

A huge sigh, instead, then Ukitake stills. His breathing remains uneven, but he stops struggling. Strong, pounding steps lead them quickly to what the fair man considers home. As they go, people watch with huge eyes. Kuchiki-taichou, followed dutifully by his scowling lieutenant, raises an eyebrow. Kenpachi has no delusions about whether the noble approves or not.

Ukitake, hanging over a broad shoulder like a rag-doll, raises his head as he feels Renji's reiatsu flare. Probably in amusement, he thinks. "This is not very dignified, Zaraki."

A chortled laugh, but Zaraki doesn't reply. He leaves the man with his concerned underlings, who cower at first but are quick to carry their captain to his bed. Accusatory glances are sent his way, but Zaraki doesn't care. He peeks his head through the door, finds a pale face buried under equally pale sheets, and nods as eyes look back at him. With a wicked grin he turns, leaving the struggling man behind.

"Get better, Ukitake, my zanpaktou awaits you."


End file.
